House Call
by RochelleRene
Summary: Poor House has a bad cold. Poor, poor House. Snicker.


It was 11 in the morning and House was stoned… Well, as stoned as you can get on over-the-counter drugs and scotch. Cuddy came into the house quietly, in case he might be sleeping, but found him sprawled on the couch watching a trashy morning talk show, surrounded by torn-open packages of cold medications. His hair was sticking up in crazy ways and he was half-covered in a blanket. He looked over at her and grinned sleepily. "Hey, babe." He blinked… very slowly.

"House, um, how are you feeling?"

"Great. Think I turned the corner."

Cuddy started collecting the different boxes and bottles and gathering them on the coffee table. "House, did you take all of these?"

"Don't worry, Cuddy," he slurred. "I'm being supervised by a doctor."

She glared at him. "I think your doctor might be high."

House snorted and laughed like this was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. She couldn't help laughing at him in his silly, goofy state of mind. She sat next to him on the couch.

"I brought you some soup," she told him, gesturing at the small carton she'd set on the table.

House rolled his head to the side to face her. She bit her check to keep from laughing right in his face. "You're pretty."

"Thank you."

"I like your teeth."

She couldn't help it. She laughed. "House, you've really done yourself in here. I brought you some case files in case you were bored, but clearly that's not going to be necessary."

"I'm not bored," he replied. "How can I be bored when we're gonna have sex?"

"We're not having sex, House."

"Not right this second, no."

She patted him gently on the cheek. "You're so drugged out; I think it might be illegal for me to have sex with you."

"Makes it hotter," he replied.

Cuddy snorted. "I think NOW might have some issues with that statement." She ran her hand down his shoulder and arm. When her hand touched bare skin at the end of his tee shirt sleeve, she couldn't help it. She couldn't touch the man and not be at least slightly aroused. "Anyway, you really aren't in a great capacity for… activity."

House took her hand and put is squarely on his crotch. "Activated."

Cuddy bit her lip. "That's great, House, that your perpetual boner has not been affected by the eight pounds of medication you've ingested. But have you stood up and walked around recently? I have a feeling this wouldn't be your best performance." She couldn't resist rubbing him through his pajama pants. "Despite this _hugely _promising overture."

House grinned widely at her euphemism. "If you don't trust my coordination, maybe you could just kiss me and make me all better?"

Cuddy laughed heartily now. "Oh yeah? Maybe I could, but I fear I'd be stoned afterwards. You realize all these drugs pass into your bodily fluids, right?"

House snickered. "You said 'fluids.'" By this time, he had shifted his body toward her and was snaking a hand up her skirt and using the other to clumsily paw at her buttons.

"House, you're sick. You need to rest. And I need to not get sick."

"We won't kiss on the mouth," he teased. "Hooker fantasy."

Cuddy made a grossed-out face. "The idea of a fantasy is that you haven't actually _done _it," she chided.

House pulled back. "You were a hooker?" he teased. Cuddy rolled her eyes.

House retreated and relaxed into the couch again. "I understand. I'm feverish, snotty, contagious. Not appealing. But if you don't want to fuck me, can you go back to work now, then, so I can do something about my current predicament."

Cuddy smirked at him. "Can I watch?" she teased.

"No," he answered emphatically. "I've spent too much of my life jacking off to your image floating in my mind. To have you actually denying me sex and watching might trigger PTSD."

Cuddy stood up and smirked down at him. "So you're just gonna get off to Jerry Springer?"

"No, I'm gonna get off to the idea my mouth all over your body while I'm sliding repeatedly inside of you." His eyes slid back to the television. "Jerry just gets to watch."

Fuck him, and his goddamn dirty mouth. This man said things she never thought she'd want a man to say to her, and somehow they turned her on in a way that was completely irresistible. His lust was so honest and tangible. It made her hot.

"All over, eh?" she asked, biting her thumbnail.

House didn't look up. "I start at your toes and make my way up."

"That sounds nice," she tossed out.

House closed his eyes and she knew it wasn't for show. He really was picturing kissing her naked body. He sighed. "It is _so_ nice," he agreed. His hands stayed at his sides, but she saw the tiny instinctual upward push he made with his pelvis. And she couldn't help it. He was sick, she should be at work, and he was essentially intoxicated, but she wanted him… on her, in her.

"Would you lick up my thighs?" she asked flirtatiously, stepping a little closer to him.

His eyes were still closed. "I did. Slowly. I'm past that," he told her. She saw him absent-mindedly lick his lips. She saw the insistent bulge poking out from the blanket on his lap.

"How do I taste, House?"

His eyes popped open and met hers. "Cuddy, either get naked or get out of here."

Cuddy inhaled and found her breath shaking. She took her jacket off and let it drop to the floor. House watched her, his eyes glazed with chemistry and desire. Cuddy unbuttoned her top and let it slowly slide down her shoulders. She watched House's eyes roam over her unabashedly, and she saw his hand move to touch himself, like a reflex, before he planted it on his thigh. She stepped closer to him and he held a hand out to her. She took it and he gently tugged her closer, sat up straighter, and reached behind her to unzip her skirt and tug it down her legs. He was looking up at her with his wide blue eyes and scruffy face. His fingers slid up her thighs, over her hips, then back down to tuck under her panties' waistline. "Where was I?" he murmured as he slid them down her legs. She only had one foot out of them when he quietly ordered, "Keep your shoes on" and pulled her closer.

His mouth hit her nerve endings like electricity. She felt it in her hair for God's sake. Again, the way he just shamelessly pursued what he wanted – when he wanted her – was so erotic. Her knees buckled for just a second, but his hands on her hips kept her stable. Her hands found his head and she had the strangest sensation of trying to stay upright in stilettos while House expertly licked her sex. One of his hands slid to her thigh and around the back of it, pulling up to perch it on the armrest of the couch, giving him better access to her heat. "House," she said, for no reason but to say his name. She was getting lightheaded when his tongue circled her clit. She couldn't move in any direction, though, without losing this perfect angle, so she had to just stand there and take it. Had to. Tough job. His hands on her ass pulled her closer against his hot mouth. She was losing it, basically humping the guy's face, but House seemed nothing but pleased with the abuse. He could feel her getting close and wrapped his arms around her hips, his forearms supporting her. She braced her arms on his shoulders and came with a full-bodied scream that was usually stifled because of a sleeping child or other possible eavesdroppers to their wilder escapades. Her body curled over his head and he lay back against the couch, bringing her with him and continuing to tease her with his mouth until she slowly slid down his body and landed straddling him, heaving breaths against his chest.

"Jerry thinks you're fucking hot when you come," he told her. Cuddy laughed a gaspy laugh.

Cuddy sat up, still recovering but still hot for him. She could never really get enough of him. Her body would just give out eventually. She peeled his shirt off his torso. He responded by unhooking her bra so that she was finally naked on his lap. His hands cupped her breasts and he looked at her eyes, and then let his gaze drift down her body.

Suddenly he jerked his head to the side and sneezed. "Sorry," he said.

She held his face and looked at him. "Poor sick baby."

"I know right? I feel like the unluckiest guy in the world right now." He grinned mischievously.

"Maybe you should see a doctor…" Cuddy teased.

"Wilson's too busy," House replied, pulling his pants down as Cuddy lifted to give him room. "Gotta settle for an administrator who knows human anatomy."

"You insult my medical prowess right before you want to fuck? Seems risky, my friend."

"Something tells me I'm not the only one who wants to fuck," he replied, running his fingers along her. "I'll take my chances."

"I'm curing you, you know." Cuddy guided him inside of her and he inhaled sharply, then exhaled luxuriously. "You see? Your nasal passages are already clear."

"Mmmm. I see," he said. He let his hands roam over her body as she slowly began moving on his lap. "This _is _the cure for the common cold. You should write this up. You're a shoe-in for publication."

"The trouble is," she told him, "You have to just keep doing it for the benefits to last." She rode him harder.

"So you've really… just invented… a new… medication…"

"And you're overdosing."

"I have an extremely high tolerance," he assured her. He rolled her sideways suddenly onto the couch and was between her legs, pushing into her. She felt the hard plane of his chest rub against her breasts as he moved along her body. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist and bucked up to meet his thrusts. "And I'm addicted to you," he groaned in her ear. "Good god, Cuddy, you feel so good." He said in a rush, still high and verbally uninhibited.

Cuddy arched her back and moaned. He moved in her methodically, almost languidly at first. It could have been the drugs or it could have been House just basking in pleasure, as was his wont. He told her he loved her face, her breasts, her sex. He told her he thought about her all the time. He told her he was never happy before her. She caressed his face and told him silly things back, things she never said outside of these little tents of lust and teasing. She told him she'd always loved him, wanted him. She told him she'd forgive him for anything. She told him she got wet at her desk when someone even said his name.

Her legs tightened around his hips then and her feet dug into his ass. He moved his hands to her shoulders, pressing her into the couch and holding her in place while he entered her harder, deeper. He was against the spot inside of her and everything was hot now. Her shoulders ached a little with the weight of him, but it was hot. He was so deep she felt him in her ribs, but it was hot. And the way he looked down at her and his mouth fell open just before he clenched his eyes shut, well, that was so hot. He was erratically moving now, moaning her name and Cuddy fell once more, her core tensing and relaxing again and again and her breasts bouncing with the momentum of their movements.

They lay there gasping, sweaty, smiling ear to ear. He kissed her skin sloppily as he caught his breath. He found her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it and holding it there. "So happy I found a doctor who makes House calls," he teased. "See what I did there?"

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "So I'm a doctor now?"

"You're the cure for what ails me."

"So you'll lay off all these meds?" Cuddy cautioned.

"Will you stay here with me naked?" he asked.

Cuddy tapped her lips with a finger, considering what was sitting on her desk at work. "I guess I wouldn't be lying if I said I had to monitor a patient…"

"You also wouldn't be lying if you said you had to fuck House all afternoon," he pointed out, "But I don't know who you're having this conversation with."

She smiled and ran her fingers up and down his back. "Okay, sicko. Lemme get my phone. I'll blow off the afternoon."

House snickered against her breasts. "You said 'blow.'"


End file.
